Small Things
by tFantasyFan
Summary: It's the unexpected touches that let you know you've got a home. Because Brook and Usopp don't have enough bonding time.


_Brook and Usopp nakama bonding~_

_Disclaimer: I do disclaim.

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It had been a while since he'd taken up watch on a ship. Not to say that he hadn't done his fair share of watching, during his time adrift in the impenetrable 'safe haven' of the mist, so perhaps such a term was incorrect. Rather, it had been a while since Brook, should a ship choose to make itself known as he watched, had been obligated to report it to a crew member.

A fellow crew member.

A fellow, living, breathing, _present _crew member, who he would see again in the _morning_- while he stood out on deck and enjoyed the sunshine. He repeated this thought to himself several times, just to reassure himself that it all was not, in fact, a dream.

They had really...left Thriller Bark behind. And he was a part of this crew, this superbly eccentric crew who had not only set him free but freed everyone, returned their shadows and were on a course to Laboon (however distant in the future that reunion would be). He would see his long-lost friend again, after waiting for over fifty years.

Fifty _years. _

Alone. The memory pressed in on him slightly and there was nobody in sight to relieve such a pressure. Lion-chan was smaller than his own ship had been, but still admittedly large. Even if he concentrated, he found he couldn't hear a sign of life.

Most unpleasant, that.

His fingers- such as they were- twitched nervously in his lap. He would play something exceedingly cheerful tomorrow, he decided firmly. Something that would drown him in happiness and the sun and his shadow beneath him, that would drive away the lingering memory of those years he'd been stranded. And he would request that Mister Sanji boil a kettle of tea, to rid himself of the night's chill.

Bink's Sake, then, after that had all been done. The captain loved that song nearly as much as Yorki had, but more often than not it was warming rather than depressing. When he played it for his new nakama, it brought laughter and dancing and so much distraction and his soul felt full enough of it to burst.

Ah, such a fine crew- full of life and determination and oh, how they _dreamed. _Every dream was as important as any other, no matter how insignificant one would think it was in comparison. A Pirate King and the world's greatest swordsman, a chef searching for a mythical ocean, a lying sharpshooter and a determined doctor, two beautiful women with haunted eyes who simply wanted to do what their abilities enabled them to do and a man who came to look after his ship and the people on board.

All together, all unwavering, all so beautiful to watch day after day. And they treated him as just another one of them, calling for him to side with them during arguments over breakfast and attempting to catch him up in mischievous schemes. He often found himself seeking attention and never left wanting- any eyes on him, any laughter, any request for a song, it meant he was alive: or as close to it as was possible for a skeleton. It did not matter how many years he spent with them, he would never grow tired of the feeling.

If the morning would simply arrive, so that he could lose himself in shining teeth and unintelligible conversation.

A fish jumped somewhere in the distance and was eaten by a larger one and he turned his attention to the moon rather than the water. Such a dangerous place, the ocean, and so vast. How easy it was to take note of it and feel insignificant in comparison. So quiet. He wondered if there would be crickets on the next island. He'd always been fond of crickets. They were like little musicians.

The sound of someone heading for the crow's nest brought with it the prospect of music, conversation and perhaps- if his new altered approach was indeed an improvement- a glimpse of some fair lady's panties. When the vague sounds of approach became solid footsteps in the rather luxurious space, he turned and knelt with the grace only a man of his light weight could produce.

"If I may see your panties, I would certainly be the most honored gentlem-" -and his declaration fell short. Grin remaining nonetheless (not that he had much of a choice; it was rather more present in spirit), he changed his greeting. "Mister Usopp! You're certainly up late, aren't you? Are you in need of a song to soothe you to sleep? I remember a lullaby from years ago, most relaxing to the muscles- though of course I have no muscles-"

Usopp's smile could have spanned the length of the entire Grand Line as he dropped into a sitting position with a plunk. "I thought you'd be getting bored by now. And no one is better company than the great Captain Usopp! I once saved a beautiful princess from a horrible disease of loneliness, just by telling her tales of my most meager of adventures: I remember the time I told her about when I singlehandedly defeated an enormous dragon..."

The majority of the next several hours were filled with the sharpshooter's distinctive voice, weaving tales of grandeur and bravado, smile never once fading from his features. Brook listened as his watch died down, occasionally inserting a hearty laugh or admiring noise of some kind (how incredible, that just one young man had managed to save an entire kingdom from tyranny!). Though he'd never been revered for his genius intelligence, it was quite obvious that Usopp had come not only to cure his boredom, but to cure him of his loneliness as well.

When the boy paused to take a breath, the musician took the opportunity presented. "Thank you very much for joining me tonight, my friend."

"Eh?" The smile grew. "Oh, you're welcome. I can remember my first watch with Luffy and the others. When you've been in one place for so long, you don't regret leaving but you miss what you left there."

"Yes. My problem was just that. If you would continue your thrilling tale-!"

The somewhat one-sided conversation continued for a long while, until Brook looked over and discovered that he must have mostly been continuing it in his head, for Usopp had fallen asleep. He snored rather loudly, but that was fine. Even sleeping, he was still keeping him company.

A skeletal hand rose- hesitated, lifted again, before reaching forward and carefully tugging a stray bit of curled hair out of the other's face. Brook chuckled softly.

"Yohohoho, you're well on your way to an afro yourself, aren't you?"

He would look after it as carefully as if it were his own.


End file.
